


The Womb of a Prophecy

by meredyth_tyrell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Virginity, One Shot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 19:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6821470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meredyth_tyrell/pseuds/meredyth_tyrell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the night she hears him calling and she answers. Lyanna steals away with handsome Prince Rhaegar and the Dragon claims his she-wolf in every way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Womb of a Prophecy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Janina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/gifts).



The Tourney at Harrenhaal had sparked a series of events that could most aptly be described as a whirlwind romance for Lyanna. She’d never truly wanted nor expected the attention of the silver-haired Prince, but once she’d had a taste she had only been too eager to take another bite. So when Rhaegar climbed in through her window a moon later, Lyanna threw caution to the wind and slipped out in the dead of the night.

“Do you have anything you need to bring?” he asked between hot kisses pressed against her lips. It had been too long since he’d been this close to her, her warm soft body pressed so willingly against his.

“Quickly your Grace, I’m not sure how much longer till someone comes looking for this guard!” Lyanna peered out the window to find that the hurried whispers came from Ser Arthur Dayne who was perched precariously on the ledge a few feet down.

“Good evening my Lady, lovely as always to see you” a quick smile spread across his handsome face. It appeared almost comical to see the renowned knight scaling the walls of Winterfell like a thief in the night. Further down she could make out several other men including Ser Jaime Lannister who appeared to be shivering. The poor boy hadn’t even remembered the good sense to bring a winter cloak. _Good lord, half the Kingsguard is outside my window without furs, and there’ll all Southroners._ She shook her head laughing.  

“Let me change into my riding boots and grab my furs.” She told Rhaegar. Best not to keep those poor freezing, Southron knights waiting. Her hands could barely lace the eyelets of her boots as Rhaegar stood behind her, kissing her neck whispering sweet nothings in her ear, his hands roaming down the sides of her slowly burgeoning body.

 _I should write a note to explain, at least for Ned. Brandon will of course understand_. She chuckled, thinking of all the wild and wicked escapades Brandon had partaken in. She would never forget how much hostility Lord Paxton had given the Starks at the tourney in the Arbor. The flustered, chubby man had all but chased them out of his castle by the end, a sheer contrast from the overt hospitality he’d greeted them with in a superficial attempt to curry favour with the Starks (something many Lords did now that they’d learnt of Lord Rickard’s Southron ambitions). The whole situation had confused them all until Lady Mina gave Lyanna a letter to deliver to Brandon. Lya had momentarily considered not reading it, before tearing it open. Inside were Lady Mina’s declarations to Brandon of her undying love. Oh how she’d bullied Brandon endlessly about it.

Or the evening not two moons before when Lyanna (who’d had a few too many glasses of Dornish wine) staggered into a broom closet instead of her chambers and found Brandon with yet another lady. How flustered Lady Ashara had been as she hurriedly tried to smooth her skirts and tame her hair. She’d profusely thanked Lord Brandon for finding her lost "emerald earring" and scurried off without making eye contact with Lyanna. Brandon shamelessly gave Lya a large wolfish grin before they both drowned in a fit of laughter.

A sudden pang of guilt hit her. She was leaving them, and without even going and saying goodbye to Brandon. _Never mind, there’ll be plenty of opportunities later when the scandal has died down to see them again_.    

Lyanna couldn't help the excitement that bubbled in her as they rode off into the night, her handsome Prince taking her on an adventure.

xxxxxxxxx

They'd finally found solace from the Northern lords chasing them after several days and had secretly taken refuge at a castle. The Lord was loyal to the Targaryens and had generously hidden them away. Rhaegar had dismissed his Kingsguard and taken Lyanna up to their quarters, which is where they were now.

He stalked closer and closer to Lyanna, like a predator, imperceptibly licking his lips. She felt a shiver run down her spine. The slight edge of fear, as this was finally about to happen, made it all the more thrilling. His hands went to her shoulders, to the collar of dress, sliding over the thin skin of her clavicles.

“You have a beautiful body. I can tell, even under this thick fabric, it has just become a woman’s body. Everything so perky.” Her breath hitched in her throat, Rhaegar noticed that.

“I am right aren’t I? You wouldn’t disappoint me, would you?” The slight threat in his voice only served to make Lyanna’s heart beat even faster as he hooked his thumbs in her dress and pulled it down her body. Lyanna stood naked as her nameday before him in stark contrast to Rhaegar who remained in his black wool tunic. Despite the blazing fire, the frosty air immediately hardened her nipples, which felt even more sensitive under Rhaegar’s stare.

He took a step back to take in her naked form, almost as though he were inspecting a purchase. His tight lips, straight giving away nothing. But his eyes, his violet eyes looked like he wanted to devour her. They gave away the fire, showed the dragon beneath who was fighting to break free of his restrains, to attack her, make her his. And despite the shame she felt being so exposed, something stirred in her nether regions, a tingling sensation aching for relief.

“My beautiful she-wolf", she stood firmly in place till Rhaegar was only a hair’s breath away. She could feel the heat emanating from him. _The dragon indeed!_ A large calloused hand reached for her right breast, weighing it in his hand. "You are the beauty and the beast in one” he whispered as he prowled closer to her, stalking his prey. She felt herself backing away, feeling cornered. _You are the wolf, stand your ground!_ She remained smile playing on his lips deemed that he was satisfied.

“See how your body reacts to me, the Gods created you for me, we were destined to be dear Lyanna” her breath quickened as his thumb started rubbing back and forth over her nipple. At this point they were both straining, demanding relief. Rhaegar, reading her body, pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, lightly at first, and then harder, twisting slightly. She let out a moan, in response to pleasure or pain she did not know which, and Rhaegar appeared to be pleased, again she did not know which he’d hoped for. As he leaned down and took one rosy nipple into his mouth Lyanna’s head fell back letting out a long moan as his hands found purchase on her back pulling her to him.

He suckled at her teat like a babe, violet eyes staring into her own, before kissing his way across to cherish the other breast. His silver hair is so soft and tickles her chest, as she threads her fingers through them to hold him closer to her. There was something so hungry about him, his behaviour. This was far from what she’d expected. Her thighs clenched together as she wondered what their first bedding would be like, the night that they would truly make love as man and wife. Robert would likely have been so drunk that he would’ve taken the wrong woman to bed and still believe he’d made love to Lyanna. She’d persisted to Ned that Robert didn’t love her, would never love her. He was simply in love with the _idea_ of loving Lyanna. And what did her beloved brother do? Nothing, but stand by as her father happily obliged to ship Lyanna off to the other end of Westeros to marry a man who’d seen more whores than sunsets in his life.

Rhaeger, though, he was something entirely different. He worshipped her like the Queen he claimed she deserved to be. The moment he’d dropped the crown in her lap, when the crowds fell silent and she felt Ben shrinking beside her under the stares. She felt that same fear and shame and embarrassment, and then, something else. _The blood of the First Men runs in your veins Lyanna. You have a direct lineage to Bran the Builder, to the Kings of Winter, to the Wolves of Winterfell._ And in that moment she felt the fire burn deep inside her, in her loins.

Her eyes fluttered shut as Rhaegar ran his large hands down her backside, sending a chill up her spine.

“No, look at me” her eyes flew open to see the predator before her “I want your eyes on me always” his voice cut like steel and as he stood up to his full height she felt weaker and wanton before him.

He carried her to the bed and laid her down, the silk sheets slipping beneath her skin. She watched as he shrugged off his coat and unbuttoned his tunic revealing those strong muscles, never breaking eye contact. When he peeled off his trousers revealing his long, stiff shaft the timid maid in her kicked in. He intended to bed her tonight itself.

“Rhaegar we can’t do that now, no no” she scrambled back away from him finding little traction on the slippery sheets. He laughed and grabbed her calf, pulling her to him.

“Yes, we must. I am your Prince Lyanna, your King. You will not deny me now” he crawled over her.

“But what about the wedding? We must be married first. My father must give me to you” she sputtered out every excuse she could think of.

“My beautiful wolf, I have already taken you, you are mine. If you insist on having a wedding ceremony, a mere formality, then fine, I will arrange that later. But for now I will take what is mine” there was venom in that last sentence that made her tremble.

A warm hand cupped her cheek, stroking it gently “Don’t be frightened sweet Lyanna, I love you and I’m only doing this because I cannot bear another moment not being in you. I have waited my whole life for this moment, for you.” He said it with such tenderness that made her heart ache. _This_ was the man she’d fallen in love with. A wedding was a mere formality, they would declare their marriage here before the Gods.

His strong hands dusted over the sensitive flesh of her thighs tickling her, and at his nudging she spread them leaving her bare before him. The reverence with which he looked at her made the coil in her stomach tighten. Bringing a single forefinger between her his mouth spread in a wide grin as he felt how wet she was.

“Just for me my sweet Princess, _only_ for me” he sealed his lips over her own before she could answer swallowing her moans as his fingers played her like a harp. Rhaegar slipped along her folds, finding that sweet spot that made her yearn for him, bucking up into his hand earning another smile from him.

Taking his cock in his hand he led it to her quim. Testing, he slipped the tip in, his guttural breath evident of his restraint. His little wolf-bride lay there, mewling and wet, for him to claim. In one swift motion he slid all the way up to the hilt. Rhaegar let out a groan of pleasure that drowned the sounds of Lyanna’s cry. He stilled inside her, pressing his face into the side of her neck, giving her sweet kisses, breathing in the rosemary that lingered in her soft brown curls. Her fingers had clawed his biceps, no doubt breaking the skin. Oh she was the beast, the fire. He could feel the tears rolling down her cheek, perhaps he should have stretched her out a little more with his fingers first. But there was something so satisfying about breaking that seal so definitely, knowing for certain that he was her first and only.

“My love you feel softer than silk, like warm honey” he whispered in her ear before taking the lobe between his teeth and licking.

“I have truly. Never felt. Such Pleasure. It’s like being in the Seven Heavens.” He said between kisses to her face, claiming her tears in his lips. And lying above her with his arms flexed on either side of her head to hold up his weight, his eyes boring deep into her soul, he began to move slowly.

The stinging inside her began to subside as a new sensation of pleasure began to climb. The coil within her tightened as her breathing laboured, just as Rhaegar’s did. Her thighs hitched up higher over his hips allowing him to plough deeper into her, earning a louder moan from Rhaegar.

She could feel herself reaching something, she did not know. But Rhaegar did, he read it in her eyes. His hand vanished down to find that sweet bead of pleasure he’d touched before and started rubbing it as he continued to thrust into her.

“That’s it, come my sweet, my love, my Goddess. Come for me” it was a demand, not a request and Lyanna would gladly oblige. Everything went white as her body bowed from the bed, her mouth open with a silent scream. She saw stars, she saw fire. An all consuming pleasure enveloped her body and all she felt was ecstasy.

As she came down from her high she saw Rhaegar above her, still moving his teeth grinding and jaw flexing at the sight of her. He continued to plough into her to find his own release and Lyanna watched, studied his expressions.

She felt immobile, witness to this incredible man in an act that was almost ethereal. Till the day she died nothing would ever be quite as beautiful as the look of Rhaegar Targaryen reaching his peak. His jaw open as he let out a load moan and a grunt, a bead of sweat rolling down from his temple. The was something almost violent about it, like a man fresh from the battlefield. And she was here, blessed by the Old Gods, the New Gods, hell even R’hollor to have Rhaegar, to be loved by Rhaegar.

“Oh my love, my life!” he roared as he stilled deep within her, spilling his seed. He slumped his head by her ear and she felt his heart beating quickly against hers, his breathing slow.

“The seed will be strong. Let us pray that it quickens tonight within you my dear. The Prince that was Promised could be growing within you as we speak.” He continued to whisper sweet nothings into her ear as she fell into a deep slumber.

 xxxxxxxxxx

Hours later she woke up to the moon streaming through the window. The last embers of the hearth were burning, she’d been there a while. Rhaegar lay there; sound asleep in all his glory. She smiled, this was what she’d wanted, to go to bed every night beside this man. Deep inside, a part of her wondered, how much he wanted her so that he could fulfil his prophecy. Yes, a part of him did love her, she was sure of that. But only a small part, which in her lust filled haze she’d exaggerated to be more than it was. As the moonlight streamed across her tear stained face Lyanna began to understand the full brevity of her actions and the potential repercussions. Had she ruined her family forever?

Staring down at her belly she wondered if the Dragon’s seed had held. She whispered down at her belly “I promise, that whatever mistakes I’ve made, whatever I’ve done wrong or selfishly, it ends now. Everything I do, will be for you little dragon.”

And as the months went on Lyanna realised just how much she had sacrificed. Her father dead, Brandon dead. The thousands of boys brought to an early grave fighting for a cause they couldn't care less about. But the most painful had been the news of her beloved Rhaegar, falling in battle. They say her name had been on his lips as he fell. The tears were endless. And when she'd finally finished her own battle in the birthing bed and held the babe close to her chest she looked down and saw a child who would pay for her mistakes.

"I'm sorry my little cub, I'm sorry for everything you will endure and I pray to the Gods that they will keep you safe and not punish you for my sins."

      


End file.
